


and so, everybody was way oh

by thisisthenoid



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Drowning, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Other, can be seen as shipping, descriptions of death, ds: shipwrecked, im bad at tags, kind of, maxwell with human emotions? in THIS fic? it's more likely than you think!, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-09-29 15:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20438360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisthenoid/pseuds/thisisthenoid
Summary: it can boost a persons mood considerably to find out you're not stranded somewhere alone, even someone like maxwell. who would've thought.





	and so, everybody was way oh

**Author's Note:**

> started: 26/8/2019  
a request for Gareec, who asked: I don't know where they could go from here but possibly Max and Wilson meeting up again? Anyway - I can't help but imagine them crashing onto the same island randomly after many deaths each and just, seeing eachother? Idk  
im sorry this took so long but i hope you like it!!!! asdfghfsd thank you again for the kind words and the request, it really does mean a lot!!! this is a continuation of the "you dont deserve this" fic, though this can be read as a stand alone.  
ive been looking at this for three days straight dfhgdfshg

of all the worlds to wake up on, the islands were, by far, the most horrid place of them all. of course, none of them were desirable; the world he had helped shape in its entirety had the relentless hounds and bloodthirsty giants, and the pig city had the dreadfully thick fog and dangerously full forests, but the islands were a wetter incarnation of hell.

the constant stench of salt and fish, the sticky, humid moisture that never seemed to go away even in dry season, the dampness paired with the sand, the deadly meteors, the poisonous, flooding rain, the extra ravenous monsters that never left him alone no matter how fast he ran, the prickling anxiety whenever he set sail - the list could go on. everything was made ten times as dreadful when stranded in the middle of the ocean, from the climates to the monsters. he didn't fancy that kind of life one bit, but he soldiered on anyway, so as to prove a point to Them that he _could._

it didn't help that his mind was a black box of every single death he had suffered. no matter how long ago the death had occurred, it was always very easy to remember each of them with enough quiet time, and every single one was in excruciating detail. he knew how many times he had died since being freed from the throne, what specific thing had ended his life, all down to the exact day he had perished. a cruel design choice by Them, perhaps; he wouldn't put anything past it if They could alter a person's brain when you'd been bound to the throne for as long as he had. that kind of patch work seemed right up Their alley.

so it wasn't too much of a shock that half of the memories within the black box consisted of drowning. of being cuffed by the wrists or snagged by the ankle by dark hands from the depths. of being held under water, only allowed second long breaks of air before being dunked back under, until he's forced to inhale bitter water that fill his lungs and make his eyes pop from their sockets. of him thrashing helplessly to stay afloat, only to be mercilessly dragged down, down, down, until he can't see beams of light anymore and his heart loudly rings in his ears and his brain suffocates and his lungs burn for oxygen and They creep into his vision pointing and laughing and taunting and dragging downwards downwards downwards and he's drowned slowly so slowly painfully slowly-

he snaps himself free from the tides of his thoughts, a shaky hand rubbing the creases in his forehead. he wills the memories away for the sake of his sanity, taking deep, stabling breaths. it's only his third day. unless he's severely unlucky, he should be okay until at least day forty. he could last that long - he's always lasted that long. he still has a while to go before the testing curve kicks in. so he focuses on the general ambience of the forest, forcing himself to get into gear on what materials he needs to gather and what tools to make.

he briskly sets to work, eager to distract his mind with anything other than the persistent black box. he's chopping down his third tree, a sheen of sweat on his brow and an ache in his arms, when he hears a different noise over the laps of the ocean and the woops of wildlife. a boat. he hears the creaks of a boat rapidly approaching his destination, though he can't see anything no matter how hard he strains. suddenly he's on edge; was that a boaty knight coming for him so soon? he hadn't even put together a raft, how were those annoyances already tracking him down? 

but that didn't make sense - the noises sounded more wooden than mechanical, and he couldn't hear any vents of steam nor the ever-present neighing that usually accompanied a floaty boat. perhaps a pigman had learnt how to travel over seas? that wasn't a very reassuring thought.

and then he finally spots the boat that snaps into view at the edge of the forest, not at all a floaty boat knight nor an advanced pigman. frozen, he watches a blur jump out, and once his vision clears, the sight is enough to make him almost puke on the spot - the W shaped mess of a hair style, the red vest, the inky black arms that ended in the curls of claws.

no way. no fucking way. how was _he_ here, within the same world as him? an apprehension? a cruel trick of his hopeful mind? a joke being pulled by Them?

'maxwell?' the shock was clear as day on wilson's exhausted face, brows drawn all the way to his hairline and jaw to the floor. he looked like he'd seen a ghost, and honestly, in that moment, maxwell felt like one. 'what- what are you- _what_?' he raises a claw to run through his hair in exasperation, and it's only then that something warm and full and loving and disgustingly _tender_ explodes inside maxwell's chest at the expression.

the emotions are too human, too there, too real for maxwell's comfort, but he can't stop them; can't stop the warmth from spreading through his entire being at the sight of wilson, who was alive and well and seemingly thriving. at the thought that he wasn't as alone in the horrible nightmare of a world as he thought he was. someone else was there with him, something other than Them and the monsters and the sea and the sand, and it had his heart leaping for complete and utter joy. he'd never felt so relieved in his entire life until that moment.

he doesn't realise he's moving, his legs pumping in a blind action that propel him towards wilson at an athletes pace. and it's not until he's practically crushing wilson into his person, with quivering arms and a human desperateness, that he regains his conscience and realises what he's doing. still, he doesn't let go, holding on to wilson like he was his lifeline. he feels more than hears wilson's grunt of shock vibrate through his bones, feels the step back wilson takes so they both didn't tumble to the ground. he stuffs his nose into the crook of wilson's neck, hands bundling into the back of his vest with urgency, so very glad to find that he isn't an illusion, and he feels a sense of deja vu at it all.

'what- w-what are you doing?' wilson's voice hums through him, pleasant and human and comforting. he can't reply, not yet, instead just holding wilson close to his person. he didn't care how pathetic and weak he probably looked, or how damaged his pride had become in mere seconds, he's just hit with a sense of happiness. pure, unadulterated happiness, that filters through his every nerve from the very bottom of his soul, a true joy that he hasn't experienced in years sprouting in a full on bloom.

'... it's good to see you.' he murmurs instead.

'... u-uh. yeah. y-you too, i guess.' wilson awkwardly pats maxwell's shoulder with feather light touches. 'could y-you uh. ... cou-could you let go of me now?' maxwell gives one final squeeze of appreciation before unwrapping his arms from him and taking a step back. he tries and fails miserably to keep the smile wiped from his face.

it was a downright terrifying sight to wilson.

'anyway!' maxwell snaps, clapping his hands together with a dull thud. 'seeing as you're here, i may as well stay with you from now on! like they say, "there's strength in numbers", ey? now lets get a move on, this world doesn't wait around for you y'know!' before he could object, wilson was being tugged along by the wrist to god knows where, his mind blank and powerless at the sudden turn of events. he didn't expect maxwell, of all people, to be stranded in the same place as him. and now he was going to spend the rest of his living days with him, apparently.

he guessed that was his new life now. 

he didn't know why, but wilson felt like a similar situation had happened before. he just shrugged to himself, and decided to follow maxwell along, their lives becoming unintentionally intertwined once again.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: whatisthefuckthis (yes, thats actually the name)  
thank!


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